


Maybe.

by juliannabear



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Cute, Dates, Musical, New York City, Roomates, idk this is only the first chapter ahhh, rent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliannabear/pseuds/juliannabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>okay this is probably trash I started this like last year and decided to finish this also this is my first post on this acc so cool</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Irony. The appropriate word to use when Benjamin Coffin III shows up to our door asking to move in.  
“What do you mean you want to move in?” Roger Davis, my roommate and best friend, asked him in a shocked tone.  
“She kicked me out,” Benny mumbled.  
“But do you really want a neighborhood where people piss on your stoop every night?” Roger mocked him. I couldn’t help but chuckle.  
“Very funny, Roger,” he rolled his eyes, but I could see that he genuinely needed help.  
“Why’d she kick you out?” Roger questioned sympathetically. Behind that leather jacket and rocker hair is a heart of pure gold,  
“We got in a fight. A big one. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t know if she kicked me out for the night, or forever, but can I stay here?” Benny’s eyes were big. There was a look of desperation in his face that I've never seen before. Roger and I sighed. We knew what was right.  
“Fine, you can stay,” Roger huffed.  
“Thank you. I really appreciate it, guys,” Benny solemnly said.  
“Hey, Mark, a word?” Roger gestured to the door.  
I nodded, and walked out with Roger.  
“That was a really nice thing we did, you know. That'll earn us major heaven points,” Roger whispered, as if someone was listening through the door.  
“Just because I’m Jewish, doesn’t mean I’m going to heaven” I chuckled.  
“Right,” he looked at the floor and cracked a smile.   
“Is that all?” I rolled my eyes, in a friendly way.  
“Yes, that is all,” Roger smiled, and opened the door to our “apartment”. Our apartment. A mess we can barely afford due to Benny trying to get rent from us, despite the promise he made to us. We’re barely getting by. We try our hardest, but some days, it’s extremely tough and frustrating. Roger is always positive around me, but I know there are days he just wants to scream out of pure aggravation. He goes on the roof and stares at the city lights, wondering what he did wrong. I wish I could tell him, though, that he didn’t do anything.  
As I walked back into the apartment, Benny stood up, as if we were going to deliver bad news or something.   
“Everything okay?” He asked frantically, cracking his knuckles nervously.   
“No, actually it’s not. We don’t know how we’re going to be able to afford rent this year,” Roger’s voice trailed off. I snickered. Roger had definitely caught onto Benny’s nerves, and was totally messing with him.  
“Very funny,” Benny rolled his eyes and stared with anger at us. Wait, was he oblivious to the deal that we made?  
“What do you mean?” I asked. I had a bad feeling about this.  
“Just because you're letting me stay does not mean I’m not going to ask for your rent,” he intimidated. Suddenly, this playful joke had turned into a sudden war.  
“You owe us, Benny. We convinced Maureen to stop her show. Just because you’re not getting your stupid cyber studio doesn’t mean the promise wasn’t valid,” Roger protested. I winced. Hearing Maureen’s name still stings my heart. Not in a painful way, like a sting of emotion. A sting of every memory we had- every laugh, every coffee, every kiss, was gone.  
“I don’t owe you anything,” Benny huffed. I could not believe he was doing this.  
“Well, then neither do we. Get out,” Roger seethed. I’ve never seen him this mad before. He looked like he was going to pass out.  
Benny stood there speechless. He look astonished. As if he didn’t have to comply with his part of the deal. Suddenly, his face was filled with desperation.  
“Please,” Benny pleaded.  
“Why?” Roger snapped back. It was starting to get intense.  
“She cheated on me,” he blurted out. His hands were clammy, and I could see the tears swelling in his eyes.  
“But you told us that-”   
“I lied, Roger. I lied,” his voice started to crack, as if he was about to bust into tears.  
“I’m sorry, Benny,” Roger wrapped his arm around him as if they’ve been friends since kindergarten. I don’t understand Roger sometimes. He’s the toughest guy in the world, isn’t afraid of anyone, until something sad happens. He becomes a total softie. A sweetheart, as Collins used to put it. Boy, would Collins get a kick out of this. If he’d only come home…  
“I’m sorry. I know I’m not the best guy. I try and do what’s right in this world, and it all comes back on me,” Benny pulled a lace handkerchief (which I would assume is the same one Allison used to carry around all the time), and wiped his eyes.  
“You try,” Roger shrugged, “and that’s what matters.”  
Two minutes ago, they were at each other’s throats, ready to kill, and now Benny’s practically sobbing into Roger’s shoulder. I don’t understand these things now.  
“Hey, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Roger pointed out. His eyes were piercing through my soul like a sword.  
I nodded, as I put my scarf on, ready to face the New York City cold. A nod. A nonverbal communicator. I never know what to respond these days, but a nod is always an appropriate response. I’ve been too quiet lately. Caught up in my own thoughts, just thinking. I don’t need to think about what I’m going to say if I just nod. Last, time I saw Collins, he thought I was still hung up on Maureen, and that may or may not be true. I don’t think I’ve spoken more than 75 words in a day since she “dumped” me (as Collins puts it). I don’t really need to. I can just nod.  
“All you do is nod, it wasn’t even a response to the statement,” Roger argued, as if he read my mind.  
“Yep, see you later,” I smiled as I walked out the door.  
In my opinion, I think nods are always an appropriate response.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

New York City cold is unlike any other cold. It’s mean and brutal, like the people who live here. Well, not everybody, but still. The gusts of wind have the aroma of cigarette smoke and struggling actors’ dreams, and the amount of frozen puke on the sidewalk is mind boggling. One thing that the New York City cold and Maureen have in common, though, is that they’re both mean and brutal.   
As I was walking to catch the subway, I noticed a girl who looked familiar. She had a friendly face, one that I wouldn’t forget if I’d seen it more often. But I felt like I had seen that face before. I stopped and looked at her. Her hair was short and red, and kind of stringy. She was thin, and as she turned around I could see why. She quickly put a small dime bag in her pocket, wiped her nose, and walked away. I couldn’t figure out who she was-or who she reminded me of, for that matter. Then, as I was sitting on the subway, prepared for my thirty minute ride, it hit me. She looked like April Ericson, Roger’s late girlfriend.  
I can remember the day he got the news. He fell to his knees, screaming and crying on our once-white rug, and for once, I had to do the talking. He wouldn’t move. He stayed there, red faced and tear stained, and after taking a break from crying, he’d just continue again. I tried to give him a shake on the arm, but he cried when I touched him. Anything that might have reminded him of April, just caused more pain in him. He stayed in this state for six days, but for him, it must have felt like six years.   
I tried talking to him about it on the fifth day. He just looked stunned. He didn’t want to believe it.   
“I thought she was happy,” he’d whisper over and over again.  
Since then, he doesn’t go out much. He goes on the rooftop, and plays his guitar, or thinks. That was their favorite spot, that rooftop. Man, those days Roger used to rush home after his date like a kid on christmas. He’d have the biggest grin on his face, and talk about what it was like to be in love, well, at least what it was like for him.  
“It’s the most amazing thing, Mark. It's an indescribable high,” he’d swoon, as if he had just gotten his first kiss. I miss that Roger.   
The New York City subway. An incredible way to make friends that last for one day, or for years to come. I scanned the subway. There was a girl, no older than 20, who held a thick pile of stapled papers in her lap. Her face was kind, and her curly hair was in a ponytail. A struggling actress. She was skimming the pile as if her life depended on it. I took my camera out of bag, and was going to film her for my documentary, but the train stopped, and she got off. Goodbye, mysterious actress. I hope this is your break.  
The man across from me, however, looked the opposite. His face was mean looking, but determined nevertheless. He was wearing a suit, and his thick rimmed glasses covered his eyebrows. He was on the phone, and his eyes looked like he was going to kill someone. His face remained calm, but his face fell into his hands seconds later, dropping his phone on the subway. I was surprised no one tried to take it.  
The only person left on this side of the subway was a mother and her daughter. The mother, looked tired and upset, but smiled at her daughter playing with a doll. They looked very similar-long, straight black hair, a round face, and green eyes. I’ve seen the face the mother was making-it’s the same expression Roger used to make at me when I’d talk to him. He’d smile, but his eyes told a different story. They told the story of his agony. His heartbreak.   
It wasn’t too much longer before they called my stop. I pushed my way through the crowd of people who shoved through to get off, and I started walking towards Times Square to get a nice shot for my documentary, when I noticed a man who looked familiar. He looked lost, as if he was a tourist or something. As if on cue, the man shouted,“Mark? Mark” Only I could recognize that voice.  
“Collins!” I shouted back. We started to run towards each other,which was really cliche, but my film teacher in college said that cliche is allowed, but only when it’s necessary. I didn’t care though, it’s been 11 months since I’ve seen him.  
“Hey, man! What’s going on?” He hugged me immediately.  
“I thought you weren’t coming home for two more months!” My voice was muffled due to our height difference.  
“Yeah, but I have a few weeks off, man! I thought I’d visit New York City,” he stepped away from the hug and looked around Time Square as if he never lived here.  
“And you didn’t tell us you were coming in?” I playfully punched him in the arm.  
“Yeah, eventually,” he laughed. Man, did I miss that laugh.   
“Yeah, actually. Allison cheated on Benny,” I brought up.   
“No way,” Collins’ jaw dropped.  
“Yeah, he came to our house asking to stay.”  
“Is he giving you free rent?” Collins chuckled.  
“I have no idea,” I sighed. I didn’t feel like explaining the fight that happened over it. “So, what are you doing in Time Square?” I changed the subject.  
“The reason I’m here is because I have a meeting,” Collins paused and waved to a woman in a pantsuit. “Gotta run. See you at home, man.”  
Before I even got to ask about what the meeting was for, I shouted back, “Bye!”  
I stood in Times Square, lost in thought. Maybe we’d be okay. Maybe things will get better for Roger. Maybe I’ll move on from Maureen. Maybe Benny can work things out with Allison. Maybe Collins could get a job here. Maybe, just maybe, we’d be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao s/o to the Rent wiki because i didn't know what April's last name was ALSO this sounds like mark is a kid or something k this was trash bye


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Collins ended up beating me home. I ended up wandering around Times Square. I stopped by the place Maureen and I went on our sixth date-a karaoke cafe place. She sang, and of course flirted with every other guy there. I remember someone smoking a cigarette inside, and how uncomfortable I felt as I watched the girl I loved flirt with other people.  
“Mark,” Collins’ slurred drunkenly as I walked through the door, “ya gotta try this stuff.”  
“What is it?” I asked, pointing the glass he was holding. It was a maroon color, and there was something floating in it.  
“There’s a bunch of alcohol, who cares?” He mumbled, handing me the glass. How could he be here for 6 hours, and already managed to get hammered?  
“I’m good, man,” I turned it down. It looked like cherry, and I hate cherry.  
“Suit yourself,” Collins giggled. He was so drunk.  
“Where is Roger?” I asked, scanning the room. It was past nine. He was usually in here writing or something.  
“I think he’s on the roof, man. Benny went out, something about Allison, I don’t know. I'm piss-drunk,” Collins explained, and then started moving his finger around.  
“Don’t they let you drink up there?” I was referring to Massachusetts, where Collins worked.  
“They ain’t got the good ol’ New York City liquor,” he raised a glass wobbly, and took a shot of some yellow substance.  
“You’re drinking all of our liquor, aren’t you?” I questioned.  
“You got it,” he laughed and pointed at me.  
“Sit on the couch, and don’t touch anything, Collins, I’m serious,” I sighed in exhaustion. Like a little kid, he stomped over to the couch flopped onto it, then sprung back up and started touching the phone.  
I headed up to the roof to see what Roger was doing. I don’t go up there often. Something about it overwhelms me, I don’t know.  
“Hey buddy,” I said softly as I walked over to Roger. He was leaning over the edge, his elbows resting on the ledge.  
“Hey man,” his face shifted. That face I was talking about. I looked into his eyes. They were in deep thought clearly.  
“What are you doing here?” I looked around. There was a broken bottle of beer, his guitar, and a lawn chair up there. It was freezing, and all he had was his leather jacket.  
“Nothing, watching the lights,” he looked away.  
“Are you okay?” I joined him on the ledge. I looked down. I could see the balcony below us. A girl with curly hair was sitting down, looking at the same lights as we were.  
“Yeah, always,” he mumbled. He grabbed a small pebble and threw it off the edge. Bullshit.  
“What's wrong?” I asked. Maybe he’d open up to me.  
“Nothing,” he snapped back “where's Collins?”  
“You're avoiding my question,” I said quietly.  
“Says the one who barely responds with anything except for a nod,” he yelled. The girl below us looked up.  
“I care about you, you know,” I coaxed.  
“Well, stop!” He blurted out in frustration. I looked at him in awe.  
“Mark, no, that's not what I-”  
“It's fine,” I spoke softly, and left the rooftop. I ran into the house, completely ignored Collins, who was on the phone and completely hammered, went to my room and slammed the door.  
I could never stop caring about my best friend, yet the way blurted it out made me feel like it was his biggest wish. He's been through a lot, and I get that, but I want him to be okay. I really do.  
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.  
“Mark, man, there's a girl out here for you,” Collins slurred, and I heard a thud on the ground, followed by a chain of muffled curse words.  
I opened the door and walked to the living room, to find Collins clutching his foot- the curly haired girl from downstairs.  
“Hi,” she said with a smile. She was thin, her hair was brown and curly, and her eyes, even though they were a deep brown color, could light up a room. There was a sense of mystery to them.  
“Hi,” I replied.  
“Your friend on the roof, does he go up there often?” She looked around our apartment.  
“Yeah, a lot,” I looked at my feet.  
“What's his deal?” She sat on the couch, and gave me a look that, just like her eyes, was filled with mystery. The mysterious girl from downstairs.  
“He doesn't share his feelings. He doesn't open up, and I wish he would. I just want him to be happy,” I confessed.  
“There was a girl, huh?” She smirked.  
“Yeah, and she's dead,” I shuddered.  
“Oh, I'm sorry,” she apologized, and paused. “So he's quiet?”  
“Not really, no. He's charismatic. He gets into moments where he's reminded of...you know, and he won't talk about it. I wish he would, he doesn't understand how much I care about him and how's wish he'd be okay. I know if he talked about it, he'd feel better. A weight off his chest. I miss the old him,” I ranted.  
She chuckled. “Sounds like you have a lot to say.”  
I replayed those words in my head over and over. Sounds like you have a lot to say. Maybe I'm the one who needs to open up. I've unleashed so much that I've thought, on the mysterious girl from downstairs. The mysterious girl from downstairs. A stranger to me, yet I just confessed so much to her.  
“Huh,” I said out loud.  
“What's his name?” She asked.  
“Roger. I'm Mark,” I said.  
“And the one who stubbed his toe?” She pointed to Collins, who was leaning against the wall, holding his foot. He could have been asleep for all I know.  
“Collins. What about you, what's your deal?”  
“I'm Mimi. Mimi Marquez,” she smiled. Roger walked in, then. His face was red, and his lips were starting to turn a shade of blue.  
“Cold out?” Mimi stood up, and smiled. That smile. A kind one that you don't see often. A genuine smile.  
“I gotta run, but it was nice talking to you, Mark,” she said, and with that, she left.  
Roger walked by me, his face looked scared and hurt and the same time.  
“What's wrong?” I asked blankly.  
“I'm sorry for what I said up there. I know you care, and that means a lot to me. I don't want to talk about it, it just…” His eyes filled with tears, but he continued, “I know you care. I'm sorry,” the fear and pain from his face left.  
“It's fine,” I nodded. He smiled, and went to his room.  
I sat in silence for awhile, until I was startled by a groan.  
“My foot,” Collins weeped. I laughed.  
And at that moment, I realized that we might, just might, be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so disgusting I hate this yikes


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is so bad honestly I'm disgusted

Chapter Four  
“I'm sick of this. This is bullying,” I protested. This was my fourth time in a row losing ‘Sorry!’ I'm not losing the game, I'm losing my pride.  
“I'm so good at this,” Collins jumped up in excitement, “and I'm hungover.”  
“Shut up, Collins,” I punched him in the arm. He winced slightly.  
“It's ‘Sorry!’, you idiots,” Benny shouted from the other room.  
“When did you get home?” I asked as I reset the game. I'm not losing again.  
“I don't know. Four, five, maybe,” he opened the door a crack to face us.  
“Where were you?” I questioned and shuffled the deck of cards.  
“Out,” he snapped back.  
“Someone’s a little snippy,” Collins mumbled.  
“Try having a girl cheat on you. See if you're snippy then,” he slammed the door.   
“Add me in,” Roger rushed through the front door and slid onto the couch. I nodded.  
“I don't deserve this,” Collins whispered.  
“What?” Roger and I looked at him.  
“I am in so much pain,” he buried his face in his hands.  
“That's what you get for drinking all of our liquor,” Roger laughed.  
“Which you owe us for, by the way,” I chimed in.  
“You're no help. We’ll finish this later,” Collins pointed at the game. He got up and walked into my room.  
“Hey, who was that girl you were talking yesterday?” Roger started putting the board game away.  
“Mimi. She's the girl from downstairs,” I stood up and put on my jacket. Time to face the New York City cold. Again.  
“She's…” Roger paused. His face looked confused. He didn't know what to say about her, and I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or bad thing.  
“I gotta go. See you,” and with that, I left.  
I headed towards the subway station. The walk there was always extremely exciting, or extremely uneventful. There was no in between. This time, it was extremely uneventful. Until I got onto the subway, that is.  
There were only five of us on the subway. A man in his mid-forties wearing a cheese hat. A woman with her two rambunctious children, who were arguing over the name of the dead rat in the corner. And of course, myself.  
“His name is Steven,” the older child yelled. She looked about 10, and she didn't really look like her mother, who was wearing earbuds, completely blocking out the screaming. She had grass-green eyes, and long brown hair. She was wearing a pink graphic t-shirt, like the ones my sister used to wear.  
“It's a girl, Macy. You-you don't even care!” The younger boy screamed. He looked about 7, and was a spitting image of his mother-short dirty blonde hair, and stunning blue eyes.  
“It's a boy, Joseph,” Macy argued.  
“No it's not!” Joseph screamed so loudly you would have thought a murder was committed, and that wasn't uncommon in New York. I looked at his mother. She was completely oblivious to what was going on. I pulled out my camera, and set it on my lap. I pressed record quickly.  
In a matter of seconds, Joseph ran over to the rat, and bent down next to it.  
“Don't pick that up,” I gasped.  
“I have to,” he looked at me, his eyes were cunning, and he picked up the rat by the tail. His face lit up.  
“It is a girl, Macy. I told you-” Joseph was cut off as the rat started moving. I stared in disbelief.  
“Drop it! Drop it!” I yelled. Joseph and Macy were screaming their heads off. Joseph threw the rat as far as he could-and it landed on cheese hat guy’s lap, before it quickly scurried of. He jumped up.  
“What the f-” his swearing was cut off by the sound of the doors opening. Macy and Joseph’s mother got up and started to head out. I couldn't just let her leave.  
“Excuse me, mam!” I called after her. She turned around abruptly.   
“It's the man from the subway,” Macy gulped.  
“Yes?” She put her arms in front of her children.  
“I feel like you should see this,” I showed her the footage.  
“You filmed my kids?” She looked at me blankly  
“Oh, no. Not like that. Oh god, no. I'm so sorry, that wasn't my-”  
“It's fine,” she broke into a laugh, “thank you, for showing me, and for trying to help out. Kids will be kids, am I right?” She turned around and started explaining to Macy and Joseph how you shouldn't touch dead rodents, especially on the subway. And with that, she was off.  
Kids will be kids, am I right?   
Roger and April used to talk about having kids. They were both ecstatic about the idea. I remember spying on them as they discussed names once.  
“Lenny, for the oldest, if the oldest is a boy,” Roger proposed the idea. He named his plants after rock stars, and I guess his children, too.  
“That's such a nerdy name,” April teased.   
“No, he'll be the greatest guitar player of his century,” Roger exclaimed. They laughed. That laugh. Nothing could compare to that laugh. Oh, what I would trade just to hear Roger laugh like that one more time…  
“What if the oldest is a girl?” Roger asked. April thought for a minute.  
“Athena,” she finally responded, “strong and courageous. Fearless and kind.”   
I remember Roger looking down and smiling to himself. It wasn't just an ordinary smile. It was a smile of hope and joy. He wanted this conversation to be real.  
As I got off the subway, I started thinking. Do I want kids? Does Roger still want kids? Are we too late? I finished my errands quickly and rushed home.  
“Mark, you gotta hear what I just wrote,” he said with excitement.  
“Do you still want kids?” His face dropped.  
“W-what?” he asked in shock.  
“Do you still want kids?” I repeated.  
“I guess,” he said sheepishly.  
“Okay. Good,” I sat on the couch and flipped through a magazine.  
“Why does that come up?” Roger sat next to me.  
“I had a weird encounter with a woman today,” I started.  
“Mark, I told you not to trust the free bus psychics,” Roger sighed in exhaustion.  
“No. I don't know, I met a lady with kids. It made me think,” I explained.  
“You're going after moms now?” Roger shoved me and grinned.  
“I hate you,” I laughed. Roger stood up, and put on his jacket.  
“Hey, did you know that Mimi can sing? I caught her while I was on the roof. We’re gonna sing, actually,” he said simply. I tried not to smile or get too excited. He'd get mad at me.  
“That's cool, have fun” I smiled, and he left.  
Was this a date? Would I get to hear that laugh again? Would I see his face without pain again? Is this the start of something great? Maybe it is. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao this is so gross

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if that ending was weird it shouldn't be weird if you read it the same way I did but obviously everyone has different interpretations im trash


End file.
